Simple Pleasures
by The Homeless Poet
Summary: The team chase down a serial killer/kidnapper in Minnesota, but time starts ticking with Reid is kidnapped. The UnSub plays their sick game with the team, and with Reid's life on the line, the team starts to wonder if they will ever get their Reid back... Or if the man they hope to rescue will be broken beyond repair. Plenty of Reid!whump, hurt/comfort, no slash.


**Title: **Simple Pleasures

**Rating:** T for now, but could easily go up to M for gore and/or language. This fic _will _deal with torture and the aftermath of torture. (What can I say? Hurt!Reid is like my crack. I am a cruel, cruel human being. I know.)

**Summary: **The team chase down a serial killer/kidnapper in Minnesota, but time starts ticking with Reid is kidnapped. The UnSub plays their sick game with the team, and with Reid's life on the line, the team starts to wonder if they will ever get their Reid back... Or if the man they hope to rescue will be broken beyond repair. Reid!whump, no slash.

**Pairings: **None. Just very close family bond between the team =] I guess you could read it as pre-pre-pre-pre-relationship if you really, really wanted to.

**Disclaimer: **We all know this, but I'm going to go ahead and yell it to the moon anyway: I don't own Criminal Minds, or any of the characters, or anything. Nothing is mine. I've probably even pilfered the plot from somewhere subconsciously. Not. Mine.

**A/N: **So this fic really, really wouldn't leave me alone. And when I say that I mean it literally: I have an exam tomorrow which my entire future depends on and I have spent pretty much all of today writing this damn first chapter. I just hope it's worth it.

I know I'm notorious for not finishing things, which I am really, _really _sorry about. Fingers crossed that a) I'll get round to finishing the others eventually, and b) this won't be one of those abandoned fics of mine. I don't think it will be. I'm way too obsessed with Criminal Minds to let that happen =]

This fic jumps about in time a little, hopefully that won't be confusing. I've stuck timestamps on so it should be easier to follow. Basically, if it goes into the past tense randomly, you've hit a jump to the past. Anything else (written in present tense) is current time. I think I just made that sound more confusing. Sorry about that =/

Anyway, stop listening to me, and read this chapter =] Reviews would be love xxx

* * *

There are several ways for a person to wake from sleep: the sudden jerk of a bad dream, often coupled with adrenaline (quick, shallow breaths and a rattling heart), preferred by Hollywood but only actually occurring in real life 2% of the time; the slow swim up to consciousness that allows for a jumbled awareness of one's surroundings before the brain is really awake yet, usually coming after a long, deep, satisfying sleep, or a period of forced unconsciousness, and therefore experienced most by hospital patients on a cocktail of narcotics and pain-relieving drugs, or those who wake from sleep entirely refreshed; and finally, the unwelcome wake, caused by some external force other than the body's inherent readiness to face the world again, such as an alarm, or the sunlight streaming through the window and painting 'WAKE UP' on the inside of your eyelids. This last option accounts for 95% of America.

If it is possible, in this moment Dr Spencer Reid experiences all three. One second he is asleep, the next a blow to the face sends his head snapping to one side, his brain rattling in his skull and warning bells jangling in his ears. Sluggishly, he begins dragging himself to fully consciousness, aware of the pounding in his head and the hitches in his breathing. Another slap; he jerks as his chin crashed into his right shoulder this time, head lolling painfully on his neck; there is real violence behind the blow and Reid blinks in shock, eyes watering from the sharp burning in his cheek where he was struck. And then he remembers - _sounds behind you, turn to look, blow to the skull, your eyes water, stagger to pull your gun, it's knocked from your hand, 'you don't have to do this, I'm FBI', a man in a mask, keep him talking until the others get here, _**_pain_**-

He wakes suddenly, eyes flying open, heart ricocheting off his ribs in his sudden panic, it's happened again, he's here again, and oh God-

He squints up at the figure standing before him, the image swimming before his eyes, slipping across his vision in his attempts to focus; he blinks, trying to clear the moisture from his eyes.

'Ah, good morning Dr Reid. So kind of you to join us. If it pleases you, we shall begin right away.'

And Reid could swear he hears a smile in the voice.

* * *

_On the banks of the Des Moines River, Minnesota_

_Wednesday 15, 10:12am_

'Talk to me, Baby Girl.'

Derek Morgan isn't worried yet; not about Reid, anyway. So far, they've been working this case for two days, not yet long enough for any real progress to have been made, but long enough for two more bodies to have been discovered this morning. As Garcia talks to him, Morgan tries to avoid looking at the remains of the young couple currently being fished out of the river. If they're anything like the six other bodies that have been discovered over the past few months, the bodies will be nearly unrecognizable as human, showing signs of trauma, severe malnutrition, abuse, and torture, and much of their DNA having been lost as they rotted in the river. From what he could see of the condition of these two fresh bodies, it seemed they'd been found sooner than the others, which should make the autopsy easier. Morgan hoped so, anyway. The other bodies were so bloated by over-exposure to water and nibbled by fish that they'd been difficult to ID. They needed a new lead; so far, victimology was getting them nowhere.

'So I've checked up on Tegan Proodge: social sites, media, computer, everything. There's nothing here to link her to the other vics. She's just a happy kid, I've got photos of her holiday last year. She's pretty.'

Morgan hears the note in her voice that says she's getting in too deep; he can't blame her. This kind of UnSub is the worst: the kind that plays on happy innocents. The only link between the victims they've been able to find is that they were all young, pretty, happy, loved. They all had families. Most of them had partners. Apart from that, they've got nothing.

'Stay with me, Garcia, okay? Hotch and I are on our way back now; tell Reid Hotch wants him down at the morgue ASAP to take a look at these bodies.'

'Sure thing. Oh, wait, no - I can't. Reid isn't here.'

Morgan frowns. 'What? Where is he?'

'He had this hunch about the UnSub's MO, something about the victims names or something. He went to a church, I think.'

'A church? Seriously?' He can't believe this; much as he loves Reid, sometimes the kid is just plain weird. 'Well, I'll call him. Thanks, hot stuff.'

'Anytime, my sweet.'

He hangs up, pausing for a second before hitting speed dial for Reid. It rings twice, then cuts to voicemail. Well, he _is_ in a church. He still isn't worried.

He should be.

* * *

_Quantico, Virginia_

_Monday 12, 09:13am_

'Right, JJ, what's the damage?'

The mood in the meeting room was relatively light, all things considering: they'd wrapped up a case yesterday and had gone out to celebrate, had a few drinks, a laugh, a good time. Morgan had spent the whole evening trying to get Reid drunk, which had been hilarious for everyone except Reid, who had then gotten his revenge by mercilessly scaring away every girl Morgan spoke to by immediately firing off a paragraph of facts about bone marrow.

It'd been fun.

This morning though, one look at JJ's serious expression dampened any left-over euphoria. They had another case. And judging from the tired look on JJ's face, it was particularly bad. Now, she placed three files on the table and produced a map, laying it down neatly before straightening up and beginning her spiel.

'Over the last six months, as many victims have been found in the Des Moines River and its tributary Stony Brook. The bodies always come in pairs, a man and a woman, and cause of death ranges from starvation to blood loss to strangulation. All the victims we have found so far were reported missing about a month before their bodies were discovered.'

'So far?' Prentiss picked up on JJ's word choice, and the other woman nodded.

'There is a possibility that there are other victims we just don't know about, and we could never recover the bodies.'

'Why are we only just hearing about this now?' Rossi asked, frowning.

Morgan agreed. 'Six vics in six months, that's not something that just goes unnoticed.'

'The river crosses the state boundary; some victims were found here-' she circled an area on the map in Minnesota, 'and some here-' she pointed again, this time to a spot in Iowa. 'Which state they're found in simply depends on how quickly the bodies are discovered.'

'Putting them in the river is clever,' Hotch pointed out. 'It takes them away from the original dump site, and the longer the bodies are in the water, the less DNA there is to find.' At Prentiss' puzzled look, he added, 'Fish.'

'You mean the fish… _eat_…' Under a myriad of other circumstances, Garcia's horrified expression would have been at least vaguely amusing, but right now everyone shared in her disgust. This case certainly gave the phrase 'sleeping with the fishes' an all too literal twist.

'This branch of the river flows southest,' Reid mused, long fingers tracing the path of the river on the map. 'That would place the dump site somewhere in Minnesota; chances are, our UnSub lives around there.'

They all shared a look. It seemed like they knew where they'd be spending the next few days.

* * *

_Jackson County Sheriff Office, Minnesota_

_Wednesday 15, 10:37am_

'Have you seen Reid?'

Prentiss looks up from the mound of paper she's currently perusing to see JJ and frowns at the other woman's worried expression. 'Not since he left for the church.' Actually, thinking about it, that was a while ago now. He should be back. 'Why?'

'Garcia says Hotch wants him over at the morgue, and Morgan and I have both tried calling him but we're just going straight to voicemail.'

Prentiss felt her frown deepen. 'Do you think something's happened?'

JJ pauses for a minute before mentally shaking herself; she's being stupid. 'He's probably fine, I'm just overreacting. He's only at a church, and he can take care of himself.'

The other woman senses JJ's discomfort. 'Still… Couldn't hurt to check. I'll go down to the church, see if he's still around.'

JJ doesn't even bother hiding her relief. 'Thanks.'

'No problem. All this desk work is killing my back anyway.'

'You find anything?' JJ asks as Prentiss stands and grabs her jacket.

She's been reading the files on the investigation into the disappearances of the previous victims, but so far she's found no links between the victims at all. It seemed like the UnSub was targeting people completely randomly: all the victims were in their mid-twnties, and he always took a male and a female within a day of each other, and their bodies were always found relatively close together, suggesting they'd been dumped at the same time, but there the similarities ended. They were all kidnapped at different times, from different places, none of them knew each other, they hadn't gone to the same college, they didn't have the same hobbies, they shared no physical likeness, were a mix of classes and ethnicities...

'No. I'm actually starting to think our UnSub chooses his victims by whoever happens to annoy him that day, to be honest.'

JJ smiles. 'I know the feeling. We'll find something, though.'

'Of course we will.'

* * *

_Church of John the Baptist, Jackson, Minnesota_

_Wednesday 15, 10:53am_

The church is modest, Roman Catholic, and old, big enough for no more than a congregation of 200, and Prentiss finds herself wondering, not for the first time, why Reid felt the need to come all the way out here. Not that it's exactly far, but it's not the most obvious place to look for a serial killer, either…

She pulls up outside the church and turns the engine off, just sitting for a moment. She wonders what she's doing here.

When she had first met Dr Spencer Reid, Prentiss hadn't quite known what to make of him. He was what she guessed you could call 'quirky' or 'eccentric', but really they were just kind ways of saying 'strange', 'unsociable', and 'uncomfortably clever'. The kid's a genius, she gets that now, and it's far less intimidating than it was back in the day. And she respects him, sometimes more than anyone else on the team, not just because he's so ridiculously intelligent ('genius', she supposes, is the word she's looking for), but because he's so ridiculously kind. He cares a lot about people, and his ability to sympathise with both a victim and an UnSub makes him one of the most valuable members on the team.

He's also brave, something that she often thinks he doesn't get enough credit for. It's very easy to try to baby him, or to think of him as 'just a kid' because he's so much younger than the rest of the team, and his lack of social graces makes everyone so painfully aware of that, but he's not a child, he's an FBI agent.

She shouldn't be here, playing mother. He won't like it. He'll think she's checking up on him.

She starts the car again. She's only here because JJ was worried, and JJ was only worried because she treats Reid like a kid. Shaking her head, Prentiss checks behind her to reverse, and sees a police car. That'll be the car Reid came in. And it's still here, which must mean he's still inside.

What could he be doing?

Curiosity grows like a seed in the back of her mind, spreading like mould, and suddenly there's nothing she wants to do more than go see exactly what it is that's so fascinating about this church.

She turns the engine off. Reid will just have to be upset. She wants to know what's going on.

* * *

_Jackson County Sheriff Office, Minnesota_

_Wednesday 15, 11:18am_

Hotch knows something's wrong the moment Prentiss walks in the door, because she hasn't looked this alert all day.

'Has anyone spoken to Reid?' is the first thing she says, and Hotch's heart sinks because please, no, not this again, not _again_.

'What's happened?' he asks, his voice betraying nothing. He's the rock, leading by example, staying strong for the team. He can't be anything else. They need him too much.

'I went to the church where he was last seen. The police car was there but he wasn't.' She looks him in the eye, unwavering. 'Hotch, there was a struggle.'

And there they are. The words he was dreading. Come back to haunt him.

Why are the cases never simple these days?

Of course, the answer is, they were never simple. Only this time, they have so much more to lose.

* * *

**A/N: **There! Don't forget to let me know what you think! Reviews make me write faster =]


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